Runner
by krazeevilturtle
Summary: After another argument with his father, Arthur escapes on a hunt to vent his frustrations and stumbles in on a hunt in progress, by none other than Cenred's men. As if that weren't bad enough, when Arthur follows the trail of their prey, he finds that the "prey" was not what he expected. Rated M for violence and serious whump.


Arthur was enjoying the quiet stillness of the forest. Hearing pheasants in the undergrowth, he almost felt compelled to dismount and take a couple for dinner. However, the day was still young and he wanted to enjoy his freedom a while longer.

Yet it was not much later that Arthur dismounted in frustration. With thoughts of hunting, came thoughts of his escape and, not much later, thoughts of his father. After arguing with his father over the new taxes, he had demanded a solo hunt. As always, his father had given him nothing he wanted without something he didn't want. He had been required to take two knights with him, _for protection_. As if he needed it. But Uther Pendragon always got the last word.

Well, Arthur had gotten his own. He had ordered Leon and Owain to remain at the site of the first night's camp until he returned in two days' time. Despite such express orders, they had tried to follow him, and he had been forced to play some nasty tricks to lose them.

Now, with his anger simmering again, he brought out his crossbow and began to hunt in earnest. As he neared the river, the sounds of a chase made themselves known over the roar of the water. He backed away from the river and tried to pinpoint the direction of the noise. He heard a pained scream and the sound of laughter. The sounds grew closer and he could distinguish three different voices yelling in triumph as they closed in on their prey. He crept closer in time to feel pushed back by a wave of… nothing? He heard the men cry out in anger and just managed to hide himself as they came into sight.

Arthur noted in the back of his mind that he had not seen anything pass him, but at the forefront of his mind he was gearing for a fight. The men, three of them, were soldiers, and judging by their cloaks, they were Cenred's soldiers. How dare they cross into Camelot's lands? How dare they hunt in Camelot's forests?

Arthur was not just indignant, he was angry, and he smiled to himself as he thought about the coming fight. This was a perfect way to vent his frustrations.

Quickly, as the last of the men passed him, he leapt out and dispatched him. Hearing the sound of sword on chainmail, the other two turned and amidst their shock, pulled out their swords. Arthur gestured for them to attack, and narrowing their eyes, they obliged. In the end it wasn't the fight Arthur wanted. As he had engaged the first man, the second had tried to slice at him only to his comrade instead. With both of them distracted, he was able to run one through and disarm the other. Arthur pinned him to a tree.

"What are you doing in Camelot? You have no right to hunt here!"

The man laughed. "Don't worry your little head about it. He's dead anyway. And so am I!" At the last statement, the man kneed Arthur in the groin and tried to run. Ignoring the urge to curl up, Arthur used his grip on the man's cape to pull him back and knock him out. Pausing to check that there were no other people in the woods, Arthur relaxed and allowed himself to catch his breath. Then the words struck him. _He's dead anyway._ The men had been chasing a person- and had managed to wound them. Arthur called his horse to him. Looking around, he easily spotted the blood on the ground and the trail through the underbrush. He tied the man securely to a tree and began to follow the trail.

And there, on a bush of blackberries, was a scrap of bloody cloth. Arthur mounted his horse and followed the trail. It was haphazard; no doubt the person had been in too much pain to care about stealth or direction. Finally, Arthur broke through the trees onto the riverbank. He dismounted to climb down the embankment. The person appeared to have gone into the river. Just as Arthur turned to climb back to his horse, he caught sight of something that made his heart clench and stomach turn.

On the edge of the river, next to the marks of a fall, was a very human, very small, bare foot print.


End file.
